


The Things Frank Plays

by s0ckpupp3t



Series: Hooker!verse [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Dirty Talk, M/M, Open Relationships, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 07:25:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0ckpupp3t/pseuds/s0ckpupp3t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an AU where MCR can’t keep a good rhythm guitarist,  Gerard gets incredibly twitchy and hard to deal with when he’s on tour (and therefore not getting laid).  Luckily, Gerard’s wife is smarter than he is, and gets him a present named Frank.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things Frank Plays

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyfoxxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyfoxxx/gifts).



Gerard was talking to Lindsey. Stuck in another (if nicer) hotel room on another night and stressed out of his gourd. He’d thought that whatever she was talking about was a prelude to the smoking-hot phone sex they often enjoyed on tour, but the conversation had taken a sharp left turn from there, leaving him hard and really confused. He adjusted himself in his pants, trying to pay better attention.

Lindsey was still using her low, sultry voice, but where she’d usually say, “I’m taking off my panties now,” she was instead saying, “ _The company is called Elite Events Solutions, and I think you’ll be staffed by someone named... Frank?_ ”

\---

Frank pushed the “Up” button on the wall panel, and the elevator doors slid open with a disgustingly satisfied chime, like the ones in Hitchhiker’s Guide. He stepped inside with a sigh, checking his cell for the time. 9:45. Another elevator on another night. At least there hadn’t been a gig conflict this time--as if his asshole bandmates didn’t give him enough shit for his day job, even though they never protested him buying sound equipment and new instruments for the band. And, as an added bonus, tonight was going to be very interesting. This was the only “surprise gift” client gig Frank had ever done. He almost hoped he didn’t hit it off with this VIP client as well as the gift-giver seemed to think he would, because she had tipped up front, which was practically unheard-of.

\---  
“ _And Chantal and I were talking and she said, ‘sometimes you gotta outsource this shit, babe,’ and she gave me a card, and said the next time you were in New York, I should call._ ” Lindsey was saying.

“Wait, outsource what, exactly?” Gerard asked.

\---

Frank stepped out onto the sixteenth floor and looked around, letting out a shaky breath. He raked his fingers through his effortlessly-charming (okay, that’s what his stylist called it) shaggy hair, took off his leather jacket, and hooked it over a finger, slinging it over his shoulder. He smoothed down the ribbed black muscle shirt he’d worn by request. The client -- okay, client’s _wife_ , how cool was that -- had requested wardrobe that showed off as much ink as possible. Not skin--ink. Apparently, she’d called the agency asking if they had anybody “like a Suicide Girl, but a guy, you know?” Frank knew those were her exact words because the intake form had a post-it note on it from whoever’d been playing receptionist that day, with the quote, followed by a scribbled bullet-point list of preferences:

  

  * Tattoos 
  

  * Piercings 
  

  * Musical Taste 
  

  * Attitude



on top of all of which had been written, “FRANK,” which was circled. Twice. It was one of the most flattering pieces of work-related paperwork he had, and he’d barely resisted the temptation to pocket the post-it and put it on his fridge next to the two good reviews his bands got in the last five years.

Attitude, right. “Showtime,” Frank whispered to himself, and set his jaw, walking up to 1622. Knock-knock-knock.  
\---  
“Hang on, Linds, there’s somebody at the door,” Gerard interrupted.

 _“Shit, he’s early.”_ Gerard heard her say it, but it didn’t really process the words as he opened the door.  
\---

The client stuck his head and shoulders out the door, looking just like his pictures on the internet, except a little cuter, a little more rumpled, and a lot more confused.

“Hello?” He looked at Frank.

“Hi, I’m Frank.” Frank was treated to the blankest expression ever. Great. On the plus side, the client -- Gerard, his name was Gerard -- was holding a cell phone, which probably meant he was going to get an explanation soon. “I’m a... present from Lindsey?”

Gerard’s eyebrows went sky-high, so that Frank saw white all around his hazel irises. “One.” Gerard squeaked, then cleared his throat. “One second?”

He slammed the door in Frank’s face. Nice. Knowing he was in full view of the peephole, Frank tried to keep his expression neutral. It was hard not to laugh at the hissed conversation he could hear through the door, though. “Linds, you--You got me a _HOOKER_?! Y-- No. Well. Yes. What if-- Jesuschrist. Fine. Okay. You too. Bye.”

The door opened. Gerard was flushed and flustered looking. “Um. Hi. Please come in,” he said, robotically. Frank did, spying a couch within. Suite. He made himself comfortable, watching Gerard look at the closed door for a second, then open it. He fumbled with the Do Not Disturb Placard until it stuck the right way out of the keycard slot, then shut the door and shook his head.

Gerard turned around, then, finally, and looked. No, _stared_. Frank understood. He had nice arms. He’d put on a little eyeliner, too. But that wasn’t what had Gerard’s attention. It was the ink. His wife was right. Gerard looked, following the lines everywhere he could see them. “You wanna see them all?” Frank asked easily.

“Yes. I mean, shit. I can’t. I’ve never.” Gerard tugged fingers through his dyed-black hair.

Frank smiled, standing up. “I got this. You’re Gerard. I’m Frank. Your wife got you a present like you’ve never had before. That’s me. I’m gonna take off my shirt now and give you somethin’ to look at while you finish freaking out.” He did. Gerard sat down on the weird desk chair the hotel put in rooms like this, super-ergonomic and made with some kind of performance fabric. He was gawking. It was cute.

“They’re...” Gerard trailed off, mesmerized, as Frank tossed his shirt on top of his jacket.

“Random?” Frank prompted, flexing casually, like he was just hooking his thumbs in his belt loops and his biceps just looked like that all the time, thanks.

“Beautiful.” Gerard breathed. “I could get lost in them.”

“Well, I’m yours until noon tomorrow, so...”

“Noon!” Gerard snapped out of it, sputtering. “What did she think...?”

“Probably thought I’d have to take you out for a movie and dinner first.” Frank pulled his lip ring between his teeth in a speculative, wicked look.

Gerard looked as if he was about to protest, then frowned. “Wouldn’t it be the other way around?”

Frank smirked. “Oh, no, we’re a very select establishment, and your intake form says that you’re looking for something closer to BFE.”

“Bumfuck, Egypt.” Gerard squinted, uncomprehending.

“Close. Boyfriend experience, hotstuff. I’m here to wine you and dine you, if that’s what you’re into.”

“As opposed to... do I even want to know?” Gerard looked adorably bewildered.

“PSE. Porn Star Experience.” Frank let that sink in before continuing, “I can do that, too.”

“No! I mean.” Gerard’s cheeks were bright pink. “Sorry. Um.”

“Ohh, this is gonna be fun. I. Am gonna _enjoy_ this.”

“I bet you say that to all the boys,” Gerard joked weakly.

“Believe it or not, I really fuckin’ don’t.” Gerard looked up at that. Frank met his eyes, challenging. “Don’t even say it to all the stressed-out rockstars.”

“Oh, shit.” Gerard winced. He started chewing his nails.

Frank grinned. “Chill. Exclusive establishment, remember.” Gerard didn’t look reassured. “Besides, if I didn’t tell you, you’d be wondering.”

Gerard nodded, fiddling with the tail of his shirt, suddenly even more nervous. “Do you... have you.”

Frank knew that look. He’d worn it on his own face enough times. He leaned back against the wall, scratching his neck. “Awesome lead guitarist. Your rhythm guitarists suck half the time, but your lyrics don’t, and you’re really fuckin’ hot onstage. We clear now, all above-board?”

Gerard relaxed, smashing his hand against his face, rubbing at his eyes. “Yeah? Yeah.”

“Good. Now.” Frank put his hands on Gerard’s shoulders. His touch was surprisingly gentle. Gerard let himself be guided to the bathroom door. “Go shower. You’ll feel better. I’m here for... fourteen more hours, I’m not goin’ any-fuckin’-where.”

Gerard did as he was told, trying to figure out how one is supposed to shower for a surprise visit with a prostitute. He settled for the usual, coming out wearing a hotel robe, wondering if he’d be greeted by candles and Barry White, or what.

But Frank was just sitting there on the couch, his shirt still off, his shoes off too, now. Gerard looked at his toned shoulders, chest, back, arms. A short, lithe man, dark eyes and hair, muscles and ink, and _ink_ , hired to sleep with Gerard. By his wife. He slumped against the doorframe, overwhelmed.

Frank jumped up, the tight black jeans he was wearing not moving at all, like they were painted on. Gerard just kept looking. Frank noticed and his eyes heated, his energy quieted, and where he had been practically bouncing, he walked a little more slowly, almost stalking over to Gerard. Gerard was staring now, his teeth sunk deep into his lip, stock-still. Frank kept approaching, slowly, and didn’t stop until his nose almost brushed Gerard’s chin. They stayed like that for a long time, until Gerard was practically quivering and gasping like the heroine in a chick flick.

Frank took a step back, glancing up and down Gerard’s frame. Gerard swayed forward, drawn into his wake. Frank locked eyes with him and nodded, almost imperceptibly. Gerard stepped forward. Frank breathed him in, soap and hotel-robe smell, and licked his lips, stepping backward. Gerard’s brow furrowed. He stepped forward again, more boldly, like, _aha, what now?!_ , but Frank leaned up that little extra bit and kissed him, a soft press of lips with a hint of tongue flicking between them, and then stepped back again.

Gerard looked like a kicked puppy. Frank just looked at him, hopefully, and crooked a finger. Gerard stepped forward, looking doubtful, and Frank pressed against him, kissing him good this time, lips and teeth and tongue and the metal of his lip ring.

Gerard’s fingers found Frank’s hip, gathered a handful of denim from his jeans’ waistband, dug in and pulled while shoving his tongue into Frank’s mouth. Frank retaliated by sucking lightly, getting a fistful of Gerard’s hair and using it to angle his face, fitting their mouths together more tightly.

Gerard moaned into Frank’s mouth; he took it as encouragement, pulled a little more firmly. They made out like fucking teenagers until Gerard broke off for air. Frank grinned, wild-eyed, and tried to step back again, but took Gerard with him. His fingers were still clenched around the fabric over Frank’s hip, and he looked triumphant right until Frank’s grin turned into full-on beaming, and he backed onto the bed and pulled Gerard on top of him.

“Oh!” Gerard actually looked a little surprised to be on top of Frank. On the bed.

Frank smiled, guilelessly charming. “Hi!” he chirped, like nothing was more delightful than being under Gerard, or probably more like he was incredibly pleased at having gotten Gerard into the bedroom.

Gerard propped himself up on his arms, his robe falling open down his neck as he squirmed to bracket Frank’s head with his hands, and looked down at Frank, wondering.

“Fuck, yeah, c’mon,” Frank murmured, and lifted his head. Gerard gave in, kissed him again, and Frank squirmed back, got his hands on Gerard’s waist and pulled at the robe’s tie, his hips angling up so his cock, hard, pressed against cotton and denim and terrycloth and the skin next to Gerard’s navel. Gerard must have felt it, because he made a choked noise, and jerked against Frank’s thigh, breaking away, and panting. He looked down at Frank, genuine concern in his eyes clouded by heat.

“You don’t even know me.” He winced after he said it, like even he knew how ridiculous that sounded.

“What do you think I should know?” Frank said with a grin. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue!” Gerard said.

“No!” countered Frank, and both of them laughed, “Yell-aaaaaugh!”

As their giggles quieted, Frank asked, “How well do I have to know you, exactly, to want in your pants?” Frank’s eyebrows waggled, but then his expression calmed to something more patient, more earnestly amused. Gerard looked at him, surprised and vulnerable. Frank rolled his eyes. “Yes, I want in your pants, genius. This was your first clue?” Gerard lifted up a hand to rake fingers roughly through his hair, and then gestured wordlessly.

Frank grinned, did something with his shoulders, and somehow rolled them over, almost gracefully, until Gerard was flat on his back on the king-size, and Frank was crouched low over him, one leg between Gerard’s and one to his left. He knelt up, popping the button on his jeans and pulling the zipper down. He picked up Gerard’s hand and guided it to the front of his black briefs, locking eyes with him, all challenge and enticement. Gerard splayed his fingers, questing and finding, wrapping his fingers around hard heat.

“See,” Frank breathed, “In-ter-es-ted.”

Gerard scowled at being talked down to, but squeezed gently and bit his lip. “C-can I see?”

“Fuck, yeah.” Frank scrambled off the bed and got out of his jeans with more ease than Gerard would have thought possible, and stood in front of him in short clinging boxer-briefs and ink. Gerard sat up on the bed, his robe falling open a little, forgotten while he stared at the illustrated man in front of him. He scooted to the end of the bed, reaching out a hand with a questioning glance. Frank laughed and nodded, and Gerard’s fingers trailed over the identical doves low on his stomach.

“They’re not heralding anything,” Gerard mumbled. Frank looked down, touching the birds and Gerard’s fingers lightly.

“I know. I was going to connect them with a lower back piece somehow, but nothing good has come along yet.” Frank grinned. Gerard caught Frank’s hand, tracing the letters. “Halloween?”

“Birthday,” Frank said, without a trace of irritation at how things had somehow just gone from “getting naked” to “heraldic imagery and birthdates.” But then again, he was always happy to talk tattoos. He was about to turn around to show Gerard his Jack-o’-lantern, but Gerard took his hand, turned it over, was looking at Frank’s fingertips, touching the callouses gently.

“What do you play?”

“Boys. Girls. Guitars. Video games. Hopscotch.” Frank giggled until Gerard joined in. “House. Doctor. Dead.” They laughed together, and it felt good--until Gerard lifted Frank’s fingers a tiny bit higher and licked the letters on his knuckle, then sucked Frank’s index finger into his mouth. That felt good, better than good, but a wholly different kind. Frank’s laughs turned to soft curses as Gerard looked up at him, sliding one finger from between his lips and replacing it with another, then another, until his teeth were scraping against Frank’s thumb and his tongue was fluttering against the fingertip. “Jesusfuckingchrist,” Frank muttered. Gerard drew away with one last lick, his lips shiny and candy-red, teeth worrying at the lower one. His eyes flicked down to the straining cotton of Frank’s underwear.

“Weren’t you going to take those off?” he asked, and he sounded shy and hopeful, held up by a trace of demanding diva. It made Frank’s heart skip a beat, like suddenly he was nervous.

But he covered it with a smirk and spread his hands, looking down. “Your present, dude. S’rude to go unwrapping somebody else’s present. There’s, like, a rule.” He nodded sagely, agreeing with himself.

Gerard’s teeth dug into his lower lip so hard it turned white, but he sat up straighter, leaned in so close his hair touched Frank’s chest, and curled careful fingers around the waistband under each dove. Frank waited for him to pull, but instead he ducked his head, brushed his cheek against the cloth, and Frank gasped as Gerard nuzzled against his dick, tried not to move as he felt Gerard’s lips buzzing some soft word.

“H-hmmm?”

Gerard didn’t move, just spoke up a little, and his lips buzzed again. “Mine?”

Frank tried to think of some line, like _all you want, babe,_ or _courtesy of your wife,_ but all that came out was a shaky, “Yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

Gerard made a little noise, happy, or considering, maybe, and pulled back just a tiny bit, edging the stretchy fabric down just until it showed the head of Frank’s cock. He paused, looked, breathed against it, and just when Frank was pretty sure he was either going to die, or snap and try and rub one out using Gerard’s face, he moved again, revealing skin inch by inch and giving every indication of appreciating it like the gift Frank said it was. Approximately three years later, Frank’s briefs made it to the floor, and Gerard was still staring. He licked his lips. “Mine,” he said, thoughtfully, and licked, his tongue darting over the underside of Frank’s shaft.

“Huangh,” Frank replied, with blazing intelligence. Gerard smiled, broad and predatory with his funny little teeth, and wrapped his fingers easily around Frank’s cock, trying it again. His tongue was so soft, just like it had been on Frank’s fingers.

“Can I?” Gerard asked, less unsure and more like a kid with his hand already in the cookie jar.

Frank just shook his head, wondering. Like a guy ever says no to getting blown. Like escorts were in the habit of saying no to sex. Like anybody could ever tell this guy no. Frank just grinned ruefully rather than say any of that. “Yours,” he agreed.

Gerard’s mouth was on his cock within an instant, plenty wet with just a light scrape of teeth underneath, and then he started sucking. _Shit_.Frank looked down at Gerard’s rounded cheeks, the hollows he sucked into them, his eyes closed like Frank was everything Gerard ever wanted to taste and he couldn’t be bothered by anything so pedestrian as vision messing with the experience. Gerard’s mouth made Frank’s head swim in the best way, and he belatedly wondered if Gerard had ever even sucked cock before. He was good at it. Maybe he sucked his wife’s strap-on.

 _”Jesus._ ” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but at least he hadn’t said the other stuff. These were not thoughts Frank generally allowed himself to entertain about clients. And they were rapidly disappearing from his consciousness as Gerard sank down further. Frank laid a timid hand on Gerard’s hair, just smoothing it back, really, but Gerard’s eyes blinked open, soft hazel and crinkling at the corners, and he made a pleased humming sound that skittered up Frank’s dick and straight to his spine. Frank gasped, running the fingers of both hands through Gerard’s hair now that he knew it was alright. Gerard tightened his grip on the base of Frank’s cock, started stroking upward into his mouth, firm, slow jerks. His other hand brushed low, cupped Frank’s balls, slid down his thigh, and then Frank didn’t think about it anymore, not until Gerard made another humming sound, then a moan.

Frank looked down and caught a flash of Gerard’s hand under his robe, open a bit more now, fingers sliding over his cock while he sucked Frank off. He gasped softly, his throat fluttering around the head of Frank’s cock, and just the feeling of it--just knowing why--made Frank’s balls draw up. He tightened his fingers in Gerard’s hair without meaning to, forced himself to loosen them, and say, “Gerard,” through gritted teeth. Those eyes opened again, lust-heavy this time. “You gotta-- I wanna, god, not yet, okay?” he pleaded.

Gerard made a reluctant noise, but slowed, both his hands back on Frank, and gradually pulled away, licking his lips and looking up, his gaze somewhere between heated and shy. Frank managed the presence of mind to not trip over his own clothing on the floor, but that was it, everything else was single-minded determination to get Gerard naked and horizontal. To do his job, right, that was it. All Gerard really felt was a push and a cool breeze, and then his robe was halfway across the room and he was looking at the ceiling. Then it was all the touch of warm muscled skin to his, and soft lips on his neck. “Holy shit,” he gasped.

“You’re fuckin’ tellin’ _me_ ,” Frank replied, scraping first his stubble and then his teeth against Gerard’s skin. Gerard made a high-pitched sighing noise, pitching his hips upward just a little. “There, huh?” Frank sounded pleased, and aimed for the same spot on the other side of Gerard’s neck, first breathing warm air over the skin to sensitize it, then rubbing his jaw up from shoulder to neck. Gerard actually shivered, and Frank bit his earlobe, and kept biting, little nips and scrapes all the way down to his chest. Gerard’s hands went to Frank’s shoulders, sometimes stroking softly, sometimes gripping, like when Frank ‘s mouth finally hit one of Gerard’s nipples, or when Frank shifted so his cock pressed against Gerard’s thigh and his hip pressed against Gerard’s cock. Frank worked him over good, slowly and with intent. This was more like what Frank was used to, pleasing somebody else and drawing things out.

And Gerard was loud, gasping and moaning and talking, responsive and receptive and so easy to please. He was starting to get a little strung-out, though, tense and high-pitched, shaking, like Frank could get him off with just the right move of their hips and clench of his teeth, so he pulled away, knelt up and got a hand on the headboard to brace with. Gerard made this _noise_ , a sob of loss and frustration and pure lust. Frank looked down at him, flushed and needy, his hips up in the air a tiny bit, and smiled, leaning down to catch Gerard’s lower lip in his teeth.

Gerard’s indrawn breath, the glint in his eyes, it was all making Frank think about fucking him, what Gerard’s legs would be like wrapped around him, if Gerard’s ass was as sweet and tight as it looked. On the job, Frank usually bottomed, but he liked to top, too, and it looked like Gerard wanted him to, the way he was arching up against Frank and crying out, in a way that one of Frank’s regulars (a senator, wouldn’t you know it, but nice and he always tipped) liked him to do. And now Frank knew why; it made him want to fuck Gerard right into the ground. But you could never be sure what somebody was into, so Frank let go of his lip, slid down, and brushed his nose against Gerard’s ear, murmuring, “Tell me what you want, Gerard.”

Gerard panted for a couple of seconds, his fists tight in the sheets, before turning to Frank, eyes dangerous and dark. “Wanna ride you like a fucking _pony_.” The idea hit Frank like a punch in the gut, a vision of Gerard pale and shaking and keening, squirming and coming, Frank’s hands pulling him down, what it’d be like fucking up into him, hot and tight.

“Shit, yeah.” He sat up, scrambling for the lube he’d put by the bed while Gerard showered. He tore the packet open with his teeth, drenched his fingers with silicone goo, and got Gerard kneeling over his hand in no time flat, just pressing and rubbing lightly. He tried to be careful, all slow and considerate, but all he really managed was hot distraction until he got his middle finger all the way inside Gerard. That slowed him down, because Gerard was tight-hot-wet-tight-satin- _tight_ , even better than he’d imagined, but so... “So fucking tight,” Frank said out loud, catching a nipple with his mouth to distract Gerard from the second finger he was about to work inside.

“It’s been--ahhh--been a while,” Gerard managed, before biting his lip like maybe it hurt and maybe he liked it. Frank got a hand on his dick, just to make sure, but it hadn’t gone down at all, and Frank got the idea, jerked him slow and opened him up just a little roughly. “Shit, shit, fuck! Come _on_. Pony,” Gerard gasped, sex-drunk.

Frank smirked, sliding his fingers out so he could fit in his ring finger, too. “Impatient,” he chided, twisting his hand a little to graze Gerard’s sweet spot. “And here I didn’t bring my bit and riding crop,” he teased.

Gerard’s eyes flashed a little wider. “Not fair,” he said, whining a little. “You don’t really... fuck, of course you do.” He thrust into Frank’s hand, then rocked back on Frank’s fingers. He didn’t say anything more, just looked down at Frank hungrily.

“Yeah, I do. C’mon, I wanna see you on my cock,” Frank pulled his fingers away and Gerard breathed in, blushing, as Frank slid on a condom and got some more lube. Frank scooted down, looked Gerard in the eye, and bit his lip, making a show of rolling the condom down a little further with his thumb and forefinger and slicking himself up. He let his lip slowly roll out from between his teeth, then curved it into a hopeful little smile, the one that said, _you want me... don’t you?_

It was an expression he’d learned to use for its effectiveness. Gerard seemed to have about as much resistance to that bit of theatre as anybody else ( _absolutely none_ , Frank crowed inwardly), and he leaned forward. He got a steadying hand on the headboard, then got a leg over Frank and Gerard lowered himself down -- gingerly at first, then with his mouth open wide, his eyes closed. Frank moved his hands from Gerard’s thighs up to his hips, watching Gerard take him inch by inch.

It was beautiful and a little infuriating, because it would be rude for Frank to grab on and fuck up into the tight warmth of Gerard like he wanted to, and he really wanted to. Frank just held on lightly, waiting until Gerard was as far down as he would get on his own, filled and tightly fluttering around Frank’s cock. Frank gritted his teeth, somewhere between trying to enjoy the view in the meantime and trying not to come as soon as Gerard moved. Finally Gerard’s eyes opened on a ragged exhale, and Frank widened his hands a little, firmed up his grip, looking up at Gerard. Swimmy hazel eyes finally focused on Frank’s, and Frank grinned wickedly, pumping his hips once as he held on tight with his hands, keeping Gerard steady and pulling him down all the way before drawing back.

“Oh, god,” Gerard flailed for the headboard. “Yeah, fuck. Like that, like that.”

Frank pulled Gerard down on his cock again, pushing him back a little, fucked him with little grinding rolls of his hips. He felt his grin slowly fall away, dissolving into panted gasps and grunts. His eyes closed, and when he opened them again, Gerard was slumped forward, his forehead resting against his upper arm, taking little sips of air that sounded sharp, almost panicky. “Lean back a little,” Frank gritted out, then moaned when Gerard did, putting a little bit of pressure on Frank’s balls but mostly clenching around him. Gerard let go of the headboard, bracing his hands on Frank’s chest instead, his fingertips digging in as a moan escaped his throat. “There?”

“There,” Gerard confirmed breathlessly, his eyes rolling back before snapping to Frank, gaze heady and intense. “You?” he checked, and Frank nodded, teeth sunk into his lip, rocking his hips up, a slow, filthy grind.

Frank slid a hand up Gerard’s waist, over to his elbow, down to a hand that rested on his chest, and closed his fingers over Gerard’s, moving them down. Gerard didn’t really seem to get it until Frank pushed his hand onto his cock, encouraging him to jerk himself off.

“I wanna see,” Frank explained, moving his hand back to Gerard’s hip.

“Yeah?” Gerard panted, stroking himself and looking fucking pretty doing it. “Tell me?”

“Wanna watch you jerk off while I’m fucking you,” Frank managed, though it wasn’t easy, not with the way Gerard had started moving, fucking Frank and the circle of his fingers at the same time, his thighs starting to shake. “Wanna see you come with my cock in your ass, want you to fuckin’ shoot all over me, wanna come inside you while you’re doing it, c’mon, Gerard, show me, fuck.” Gerard made an overwhelmed noise, his jaw dropping, his eyes squinching shut. “Yeah, god, c’mon, I gotta feel it,” Frank encouraged.

Gerard leaned back harder, his hand leaving Frank’s chest and grabbing onto the hand on his hip with crushing pressure, so Frank held on even harder, feeling the pressure hot and low and tight, building everywhere, from the back of his head down to his ankles. “Yeah, Ger--so fuckin’ good,” Frank said, barely coherent, and it was only a split second later that he heard Gerard’s cry, felt something warm and wet, come striping his abdomen.

Gerard tensed, then slumped forward, flushed pink and satisfied and deliciously pliant, so soft and warm, easy for Frank to change his grip, hold on to Gerard’s shoulders and fuck up into him, drawing one last hissing breath and holding it until he came, bowing Gerard down and holding him there while stars exploded behind his eyes, muffling his shout by biting Gerard’s shoulder.

He didn’t sound like he minded, but Frank pulled away anyway, trying to look apologetic. It probably didn’t work, because Gerard was grinning at him. Frank grinned back and Gerard shifted, Frank just barely getting a hand on the base of his softening cock and the condom so it didn’t slip as Gerard pulled off and lay down beside Frank, gracelessly.

“Oh my god,” Gerard moaned.

“Yeah, I am pretty good,” Frank said smugly, tying off the condom and tossing it into the trash before lying back down, letting the sweat evaporate on his skin.

“You’re awesome,” Gerard mumbled, and Frank wasn’t entirely certain if he was talking about him or the pillow, but either way, he had a happy client. Speaking of which, it was probably time for a check-in. He fumbled for his cell, hitting speed-dial 4 and typing in a quick code before hanging up. Gerard either didn’t notice or was too fucked-out to care.

He put his phone back on the nightstand and looked over at Gerard, who looked way less stressed-out than he had a couple hours ago. Frank ran his fingers through Gerard’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp, and he leaned into it like a cat. Frank smiled, and then pulled away. “Be right back.” He walked into the bathroom, shut the door, took a piss. He fell into a comfortable ritual, washing his hands and wiping off jizz with a washcloth, giving his dick a swipe so it wouldn’t taste like latex, checking himself out in the mirror. He neatened up his smudged eyeliner and stepped back, smiling knowingly at his reflection. Incredibly fuckable, if Frank did say so himself.

Meanwhile, Gerard was reaching for his own cell phone, dashing off a quick text with the four words he figured were the best to use in this situation: _Ok you were right._

Frank walked back to the bed and threw himself on it, shaking the mattress. Gerard looked up accusingly. “You,” he said, and promptly turned away from wherever Frank thought he was going with it by continuing, “Have a filthy mouth.”

Frank stretched out, naked, freshly laid, and on ridiculously high-thread-count sheets next to a rock star. He was getting _paid_ for this. Sometimes he loved his day job. “Yup.”

“I like it.” Frank looked over to see Gerard’s little smile.

“Yeah you do.”

Gerard covered his face with his hand and rubbed his eyes. “I really fucking do.”

“You just like what I say with it?” Frank smiled, a smile lewd and full of promise. “Or the other things I can do with it?”

Gerard peeked at Frank from between his fingers, a smirk in the corner of his mouth. Frank’s fingers ghosted down Gerard’s chest, resting in the hollow of his hip. Frank licked his lips unsubtly, his thumb rubbing a little circle over Gerard’s skin. “You want to hear me talk dirty and then shut me up?” Frank stretched out his fingers over pale flesh, squeezing gently. “Get me running my mouth about how fucking hot I am for your cock, all the nasty shit I want you to do to me, and then find out how easy it is to keep me quiet when there’s a dick pushing down my throat?”

Gerard’s hand had slid down from his eyes, his knuckles now pressed against his lips, muffling him a little when he said, “Mmmm, fuckyeah.” He pulled his hand away, considering. “Well, no, actually. Not yet.”

“No?”

Gerard sat up. “Nope,” he said, popping his lips at the end of the word. He pushed on Frank’s shoulder until Frank took the hint and laid down flat. “There was something I was doing before, and I got interrupted,” he mock-complained, crawling low over Frank’s body.

Frank spread his hands, shaking his head. “Just fuckin’ _criminal_. Whoever dared to do that to you should totally get a severe--”

“--cocksucking?” Gerard raised an amused eyebrow, hunkering down between Frank’s legs.

“Yes! That. Definitel---good fucking god.” Frank interrupted himself, beautifully distracted by the feeling of Gerard taking the entirety of Frank’s cock in his mouth. He wasn’t all the way hard again yet, and so Gerard could just sink all the way down until his chin nudged against Frank’s balls, his lips tight but his tongue mellow, everything warm and wet. He was almost sad when he filled out the rest of the way and Gerard had to back off, but he quickly got his hands on Frank, the knuckles of one hand brushing his taint, the other fingers circling, squeezing the base of his cock while he sucked. “Do you have any idea how fucking good you are at that, jesus.”

Gerard just hummed softly, not stopping. Frank looked down at him--the black hair falling in his eyes, the curve of his shoulders. If Frank craned his neck a little he could get a decent view of Gerard’s ass, which had a sinfully perfect curve to it, accentuated by the way he was moving, little rocking motions. It took Frank a second to realize what that meant, to remember what seemed like years ago at the foot of this bed, Gerard’s hand under his robe. But he was making the same little noises, soft whimpers and obscenely loud moans around Frank’s cock, pushing himself further until Frank could feel the little spasms of Gerard’s throat around the head of his dick, sweet and tight. He held on to the sheets, pulling fabric into his fists. It was soon, but he could feel it, he was close again already. Gerard moaned, pulling back with a satisfied noise, caught his breath, and did it again, corkscrewing down until he was almost gagging, then pulling back. He made a high-pitched kind of grunt, gasping for air, and jerked Frank steadily into his mouth, pushing himself down again and again with these little desperate sounds like there was nothing he wanted more than to choke Frank down until they both came.

Frank knew what it was to make a show out of liking something, and he knew how to do it well. More than anything, it was probably the knowledge that Gerard wasn’t putting on a show that made Frank need to stammer, “Gonna fucking come if you don’t stop.” Gerard made an eager noise and kept sucking, his hand moving tight and fast, sending hot shocks up Frank’s spine. “You want me to shoot down your throat, is that what you want so bad you’re fucking the mattress? You sure? I could jizz all over that pretty face of yours, shit, shit, fuck, gonna come...” and the tension in Frank’s arms, his neck, his fucking ankles, built and released all at once. Gerard just swallowed him down, slowly licking him through the aftershocks until Frank got a fistful of his hair and tugged impatiently. “C’mon, get up here, lemme-- fuckin’ c’mon,” he urged, until Gerard surfaced, glassy-eyed with lust. Frank tackled him from underneath practically shoving his tongue down Gerard’s throat as he pinned him down on the bed.

He broke away, grinning. “You really like that, huh.”

“Huh?” Gerard was out of breath. Frank didn’t give him a break, reaching down to stroke his cock fast and light. “Jesuschrist,” Gerard moaned.

“How close are you, huh, just from sucking cock and fucking humping the sheets?” Frank bit down on his lip ring, looking from the dark head of Gerard’s dick, up his body, all that pale skin, to his lips, red and swollen, probably bruised from the way Frank kissed.

“Shit, close.”

Frank grinned, moving to kneel by Gerard’s shoulder so he could firm up his grip, press two fingers of his other hand against Gerard’s lips. Gerard sucked them down greedily, tongue lapping against the pads of Frank’s fingers. “Gonna lose it like this, with something else for you to suck on? Twice now you’ve almost gotten off with my dick in your mouth. I want to feel that, goddamn, you trying to scream with my fucking meat down your throat.” Frank eased his fingers out of Gerard’s mouth and thumbed his lower lip, smiling at the disappointed sound he made.

Frank just smiled, moving a little further down the bed, jerking a little slower, letting his fingers ripple with a varying pressure he knew was tantalizing. “You wanna come in my mouth? All over the ink on my chest? On my face?” He kept moving his thumb over Gerard’s chin and lip, waiting.

“Oh my god, just please don’t stop, driving me fucking crazy,” Gerard panted, and he was sweating, his brows knit together. He licked his lips, chasing Frank’s thumb playfully. Frank’s grin turned predatory, and he gave Gerard his fingers back to suck on, leaning down to take the head of Gerard’s cock in his mouth, still moving his other hand at the base while he swirled his tongue, sucking expertly. Gerard stopped making noise beyond a low gasping groan, and his lips drew tight around Frank’s fingers, then his teeth, not quite biting as he drew another breath and held it, clutching at Frank’s arm and the headboard before coming. Frank eased up, swallowing, drawing his hands slowly away and sitting up to exchange satisfied grins with Gerard before collapsing on the pillow.

They just laid there for a while, exchanging little noises of contentment and exhaustion, until Gerard broke the silence with, “Oh my god, I’m starving.” Frank hummed a lazy agreement. “What do you want from room service?” Gerard rolled towards the handset on the nightstand.

Frank considered. “Veggie burger and a diet coke?” Gerard nodded, hitting two buttons.

“Hi. Yes. Thank you. Two veggie burgers, two diet cokes? Yeah. Works, fries, you got it. Awesome. Thanks.”

Frank sat up. “M’gonna shower. You wanna join me?” Gerard blinked.

“Um.” He shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “Yeah, if I join you, I think I might, uh, get distracted and pass out and die from lack of blood to the brain over a prolonged period of time.” Frank laughed, long and loud and easy. Gerard joined him, something loosening in his chest. “I’ll just keep an eye out for the food, maybe.” Frank smiled, a real one that wrinkled up his eyes and nose, and hopped off the bed towards the bathroom. Gerard found his jacket, dug out a cigarette and lighter, and lit it, sighing a plume of blue smoke. He took a moment to consider the bizarre awesomeness of his life, enjoying the languid heaviness that permeated down to his bones. He finished off the cigarette, stubbing it out in the ashtray, and had no sooner found his robe (halfway across the room) than there was a discreet knock at the door. He fumbled for his jacket for a tip, traded it for a food-laden tray, and set it down on the bed, choosing one of the covered plates.

He’d just taken a sip of coke when the bathroom door opened to billowing clouds of steam and Frank, wearing only a towel low around his hips. Gerard coughed, trying not to look like he was choking, but Frank didn’t seem to notice, grabbing the other plate and coke and settling down. After a few minutes of burger-related silence, Gerard asked, “So did you get some kind of dossier or something?”

Frank grinned, shoving a few french fries into his mouth and washing them down with a sip of soda before saying, “What, you think your wife told me all your dirty secrets or whatever?” Gerard shrugged, looking a little abashed. “Nah. I’ve just got ‘follow VIP protocols’ and a rumor that your wife said you were twitchy as hell.”

“That’s...” Gerard snickered. “...probably true.”

“That, and I guess I’m your type.” Frank was thinking of the post-it note.

Gerard took a look at Frank, trying to be subtle and failing miserably as his gaze lingered on Frank’s muscled shoulders and devoured its way down to his trim waist. “Yeah,” he said, blushing and taking another few bites.

Frank didn’t explain that Gerard was _his_ type; it only would have sounded like a line. Or, worse, he might have had to describe his type, which so far was looking like “dark hair, pale skin, nice ass, noisy as hell in bed, soul of a poet.” Which really covered everybody Frank had ever liked, with varying degrees and definitions of “poet,” anyway. They finished their burgers, stacked the plates back on the tray, and Gerard pulled out another cigarette.

“Ooh, share?” Gerard offered the pack, and Frank took one, puffed it alight when Gerard held up the flame. “Thanks.” They smoked in meditative silence for a moment, until Gerard spoke up.

“Boys, girls, guitars, video games, and hopscotch, huh?”

It took Frank a moment to figure out what he was talking about. “Oh. Yeah. I probably play guitar more than the rest of the things on that list, timewise.” Gerard looked like he was doing math in his head. Frank interrupted him with, “--unless you count that 72-hour hopscotch marathon last week,” and they both laughed.

Gerard stubbed out his smoke and went to brush his teeth. Frank grabbed his cell, gave the agency another check-in code, and looked up when Gerard came out of the bathroom, waving off his “your turn” gesture. “I didn’t bring a toothbrush,” he shrugged.

“Use mine.” Gerard looked completely at ease making the offer.

“Um.” Frank wasn’t entirely sure how to say _most people don’t want to share a toothbrush with their rentboy_ without sounding odd.

“I’m sure there’s a planet on which you can suck each other’s cocks and not use the same toothbrush, but... I don’t live on it?” Gerard chuckled, shrugging. Frank giggled, and borrowed his toothbrush. By the time he’d finished and turned out the light and gotten in bed (which was weird, he’d never actually slept on the job before like this), Gerard was out like a light. Which at least cleared up the need for any awkward “Which side of the bed do you want? Also I snore and may or may not be a sleep humper,” conversations. Frank settled in for a good night’s pretending to sleep, but after about an hour he found his eyelids heavy, lulled by Gerard’s slow, even breathing.

When Frank dared to look at the clock again, it was 10:39 and Gerard didn’t seem to have moved. At all. Frank had a minuscule heart attack, wondering if he’d somehow managed to fuck a rock star to death, or somehow get himself framed for an assassination, before he calmed himself down and waited for Gerard’s chest to rise and fall. Obligingly, it did. Frank slipped out of bed and borrowed the toothbrush again, pissing down his morning wood and wondering what to do next. This was usually the part of a one-night stand where one tactfully slipped away, perhaps leaving a note with name and number. Gerard might have preferred it that way. But he was on the clock this time, contracted for over an hour more, and that wasn’t allowed. And he kind of _liked_ hanging out with a dorky anxious celebrity with an oral fixation.

So he made coffee. No sooner had he brought two steaming cups back toward bed and set one on the nightstand did he hear a kind of grunting noise. Quietly, he picked up the phone next to the mug he’d set down, dialing a number on the unfamiliar keys and hitting “save.” He grinned and got back under the covers on his side, pulling a pillow under his chest and sipping the too-hot coffee slowly.

A low groan came from under a pillow. “Oh my god.”

“Bedside table,” Frank counseled, amused by the blindly-groping hand that finally nudged into the hot mug and pulled it closer.

“Oh my god.” There were slurping sounds.

“I didn’t put anything in it,” Frank said. The sounds continued unabated. Frank shifted to his side, curled around his own mug. Dark hair came out from under the blanket, then hazel eyes. His legs found Frank’s, and bit by bit Frank had a mugful of coffee and an armful of Gerard. “How’ya doin’?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever slept that well in my life. Ever.”

“There’s a reason I’m this expensive. I’m way more effective than any opiate with almost no side effects,” Frank explained, maybe boasting a little.

“Almost?” Gerard finished his coffee and snuggled in closer to Frank so he could get his mug on the nightstand.

“Residual soreness and potential for dependency,” Frank managed to say with a straight face, holding off a grin until Gerard laughed, filling the room with the joyful honking sound. His eyes were bright, his color high and healthy, and Frank just... _liked_ him. And when Frank liked a guy, he stuck his tongue down his throat. So he did. And Gerard didn’t seem to mind, tasting of coffee and plastering himself against Frank in the most distracting way. A distraction heightened by the absence of anything but a thin sheet between them. Frank pressed down, angling his hip against the hardness of Gerard’s dick.

Gerard broke away with a muffled curse, rutting up into the sweet friction. Frank gave him a wicked grin. “Hi.” He got a hot, hungry look in response, and Gerard twitched his leg out, kicking the sheet away. Frank tried to help, and they got tangled in the bedclothes and each other, distracted by the occasional grope and moan. They wound up lying on their sides facing each other, Gerard grabbing Frank’s ass impatiently and practically keening when Frank wormed a hand between them to wrap his fingers around their cocks, hot and hard and sticky, pressing them together.

“Holyjesusfuck,” Gerard gasped when Frank mouthed his neck, teeth dragging along his shoulder.

Frank took a hissing breath, and started talking dirty, feeding Gerard little half-formed phrases and images that didn’t always make sense and probably sounded like the worst kind of porn soundtrack but went straight to his dick. “...yeah, fuck, you gonna come like this, all over my hand, all over my cock, slick me up with your come so I can jerk off with it? Feel so good, so big, so hard, can’t decide if I wanna make you come like this or get my mouth on you again, maybe not just my mouth. You think about fucking me?” Gerard whimpered, his teeth sunk deep into his lip. “How would you want me, bent over and begging for it, my ass in the air, or maybe under you, going fucking crazy for your cock, holding off ‘til you say?”

Gerard’s brain was going to melt out his ears; his calves were tensed up tight, his breaths short little gasps. He could feel Frank’s strokes stuttering, and he gritted out, “Fucking kiss me,” and the way Frank shoved their faces together was rough and perfect, and Gerard came with Frank’s tongue in his mouth, with his fingers digging hard into Frank’s hip, Frank swallowing down his moans. He slumped a little, sliding out of Frank’s grasp, grinning with satisfaction when he saw Frank finish himself off with all of two strokes, shooting into his already-sticky hand and falling back with a grunt.

“Holy shit,” Frank sighed, content. Gerard made a noise of agreement, eventually finding the towel Frank had left by the bed and wiping off with a corner of it before handing it to Frank. They laid like that for a while. Gerard wanted to say something, but he couldn’t come up with anything that didn’t sound like, _hey, having somebody buy me sex was the best thing ever,_ so he erred on the side of not sounding like a complete asshole. Then he wanted to say, _can I call you?_ but erred on the side of not sounding like a complete loser. He sighed, strangely sad for someone who hadn’t felt this good in months. But it was cut off by Frank looking at the clock and jumping up, putting on clothes. He found the hotel robe again and put it on, just in time for Frank to push him against the wall and kiss the hell out of him.

“Thank you for... everything,” Gerard shook his head wonderingly.

Frank sketched a self-mocking little bow. “My pleasure.” He pulled open the door with a knowing smile. “Seeya.”

“Hope so,” Gerard said to the closed door, and pulled out his phone. He tapped a couple of buttons until a beautifully familiar voice rang out.

 _“Soooo, how’d it go?”_ Lindsey asked, gently teasing.

“You’re smarter than me.” Gerard said.

_“Yes, and?”_

“And the best wife ever.”

 _“Aaaaaannnd?”_ she prompted.

“And if I’m addicted to hookers now, it’s all your fault.” Gerard laughed.

 _“I knew I picked the right one!”_ she crowed. _“So Frank was good to you?”_

“I don’t know if ‘good’ is the right word...” he trailed off, flopping back on the bed.

 _“I require details._ Lots _of details. Possibly also a transcript and your assurance that there will be in-person dramatic recreations,”_ Lindsey warned. _“What’d he look like?”_

“Not too tall, kinda wiry... he sorta reminded me of Nightcrawler, actually...”

\---

Frank got into the car the agency sent, phoning in for a routine post-appointment call and hanging up after he’d answered all the right questions the right way. This was usually the time when he’d zone out to get the taste of the night before out of his mind, fixating on the scalding shower he’d have at home and all the new PA equipment and maybe a new guitar that his next paycheck from Elite would bring, but somehow he couldn’t focus on it the way he usually could. Instead, he kept flashing back to pale skin and soft curses. _It’ll pass_ , he told himself. And maybe it would have, if he’d followed the rules. But two days later, after another terrible gig at another dive bar, his phone chirped.

He opened it. _U put ur number in my phone?? XO G_

Frank grinned sheepishly, keying in the letters for a response. _Wasn’t sposed to._

 _Glad u did_ , he got back. And then, a few seconds later, _xcept 4 the part where Im in fuckin Iowa right now_

 _When ru back in NY?_ Frank closed his phone, trying not to fidget.

_We have a slot on a talk show next month..._

Frank read it, his stomach doing a little flip-flop. He hesitated before replying. He was just taking the initiative, encouraging a new favorite client to become a regular by lining up another appointment. Sure, that was totally it. _think u can score another solo rm?_

Frank smiled when his phone beeped not thirty seconds later. He opened it, reading the new text: _i bet i can ;)_

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to onceuponamoon for beta work and dapatty for pre-reading and cheerleading.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Things Frank Plays](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5521088) by [dapatty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapatty/pseuds/dapatty)




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